The Time Percy Went to America
by SomeCallMeTerrible
Summary: Percy spent nearly a hundred and twenty years of his life in the UK, he doesn't anticipate potentially being dropped off at an American scrapyard. He gets better by getting a job with a nearby railroad.
1. Percy Wakes Up in America

Percy had thought he'd seen everything he would; in his 117 years of living, he's been involved in so many accidents he'd joked with the Fat Controller that they should make the timetable include derailing at Brendam docks. He knew it wouldn't happen, but a little voice inside of him wanted it to.

But that wouldn't matter now; he woke up in a scrapyard.

How he ended up in a scrapyard he didn't know.

The engines were big.

The engines were very big.

Not just "Gordon" big, not even "Murdoch" big, but "I'm scared for my life" big. One of them had twelve driving wheels! And their couplers were ones that he only saw on engines brought over during the War from America.

He hoped he wasn't in America. Although, that would mean that the Fat Controller didn't scrap him, since Lord knows he'd never spend that much money. A dog came—Percy liked dogs, and knew this one fairly quickly as a bull terrier—and saw the new arrival. He barked loudly, alerting the scrapyard foreman to something. Something named Percy.

He just stared at Percy, incredulously. He wasn't very scared, just confused. Then Percy spoke and he nearly fainted and died.

"Uh, sir, are you okay?" he asked.

The foreman nodded and started the stream of questions, starting, predictably, with "how did you get in here?" Sure enough, he was an American man.

"I don't know."

"Do you know where you are?"

"No, but you sound American, so America?"

"Yes. You look old, when were you built?"

"1900 in, uh, Bristol I think."

And the questions went on. The foreman learned interesting things about Britain and Percy learned where he was.

He was right. He was in America.

The foreman held up a mirror to the little green engine. Well, "green" in some spots anyway. He seemed as rusted and worn as any of the engines here, even his face looked worn and sooty. However, he didn't have any permanent damage, and the foreman wasn't going to scrap him right then and there, so he was good. "Uh, so, you're not going to scrap me, are you?"

The foreman laughed, "No, I'm not. You're a living thing after all." Percy wondered what he meant by that, but had a feeling it involved the foreman's surprise from earlier. And trains.

And so he waited. And waited, and waited, and waited. The dog showed up to keep him company, but he didn't hear from the foreman again.

Until one day…


	2. The Workshop

It was late May when the foreman returned. "I've got a job for you, Percy. It's in Pennsylvania, only about 150 miles from here."

Percy was excited. He wouldn't be scrapped just yet, could you believe it?

"Now, I believe you ought to get fixed up, they want you soon."

Percy was pulled by a diesel engine, and a rude—or maybe mute—one at that. He asked it questions and it didn't respond to one! They soon left the scrapyard with another engine who, due to Percy's coupling, had to be tied with rope to his back end. Were all American engines this quiet? It filled Percy with a sense of dread. But soon enough he was at a large warehouse, too large to be called a garden shed, but really, that's what it was. Percy was set down next to the other engine, a Pacific with a Belpaire firebox and a black body.

"Hello?" asked Percy, but the other engine was silent. He quieted down after that.

The doors closed and the electric lights came on. A crew of twenty people walked in wearing blue jumpsuits. Four of them broke off to attend to Percy, the other sixteen to work on the other engine. They looked all over Percy for spots that were irreparable. Aside from the saddle tank, cab, and bunker, not much had rusted, mainly just his side rods. There was a bit of damage on his smokebox, but nothing patching wouldn't fix. They dismantled his side rods and took off his pistons, whistle, chimney, and safety valve. It was curiously numb where they had once been, almost like they were there still. A worker came around and took his tank off and his whole crew left for the night. It was night already? Percy was left in the dark, all alone.

He tried to sleep but his mind raced about what would become of him. He looked around and similar, yet much more drastic action had been taken of the Pacific, their boiler having been corroded irreparably and their smokebox coming dangerously close.

He shut his eyes, hoping that at least tomorrow would be more productive.

The next day, the workers came early, and went on their way of removing parts from him. Soon he was just a boiler on wheels, but at least he had one. The oher engine didn't fare so well, they were still left without a boiler.

* * *

A few months passed with little done; most of Percy's crew helped with the big engine's boiler replacement. One or two got in contact with an ironworks and asked for a price estimate to the parts, and the others helped out blueprinting, but mostly they were busy.

They had more work, though, because they also had to account for his lack of bell, buffers-and-chain coupling, and lack of a cowcatcher.

* * *

Percy's parts arrived sometime in late August, with a quick fitting and an anti-rust product applied, which Percy found curious because it washed off with enough water, but supposed it was better than nothing.

He was soon assembled, and looked much better. Soon, one of the workers caught on to something. "You know," he said, still not fully alright with the face on the engine, "You look a lot like that tank engine from that TV show I used to watch as a kid back in the Eighties. If only I could remember its name…"

Percy knew about the TV show, he had a role (somewhat, that is, and it certainly wasn't particularly flattering) in it.

Percy just raised his eyebrow.

"Ah well, you're done anyway."

He was. They held up a mirror to him an he saw many new, unpainted parts.

"Well, I guess this is the part where we paint you. You'll be all black 'scept your smokebox, is that alright?"

It wasn't. At least, not a white smokebox. It would be weird to have one, especially after over 100 years of not having one. So he asked for a black smokebox instead and they obliged. He came out numbered 10 and branded Petersburg Railroad.

"Hold on a second," Percy said as he puffed out of the shed for his new owner to see him, "I'm really small! How will I be of use?"

"I'll find a way," said his new President, "there will always be work until the last lump of coal at Petersburgh."


	3. Smokebox Door

The line to Petersburgh was far longer than any line on Sodor, and so Percy was driven by lorry—or as they called it "semi-truck"—flatbed. He had a sheet draped around him and was tied down. Naturally his mind wandered, first to his old friends and…er, colleages in Sodor, then to his new line. He met an American 0-4-0 once, he was from around here, too, and he was big. Bigger, a little, than Thomas. If that was his competition how was he supposed to compete?

Well, if he pulled half a rake each time, sure.

It was about half past six A.M. when Percy's drapery was taken off and his ropes untied. Despite the early morning hour, it was a nice temperature outside. A crew jumpedin his cab and he was fired up for the first time in America.

And promptly went to bed.

* * *

The shed manager tried to wake him, but to no avail, so he just opened Percy's water and let him run.

Bad move. When he awoke, Percy felt stuffed up. He tried to move, and shot out instead, onto the turntable basin.

"Great, how has it been one day and you're already making a mess of things? Whatever, we'll send some workmen after you."

And soon enough they came by. They attatched rope to Percy's bufferbeam and pulled, barely lifting his wheels onto the track before the ropes snapped. They breathed out a great sigh collectively, and lectured him about being more careful.

Percy already wasn't enjoying his time in America.

Soon, however, the truth came out. The president had a "stern talking-to" with the shed manager, and Percy had a clean name.

* * *

Later that day, he shunted a rake of coaches onto the last train of the day. It was six in the evening and the golden-red light of the evening sun washed over Pennsylvania state. Percy took a break and a long drink, and was not to be interrupted.

Until, that was, he was interrupted. First by the stationmaster for a congratulations, we should be glad there's no turntables huh, and secondly by the first returning train. More importantly, its smokebox door. It didn't have a face. The machine's smokebox was the same white the others' were painted in.

It creeped him out, but he heard of this kind of thing happening before, more often in the 19th century, though, which he barely remembered by virtue of birth.

But bare engines were dull and lifeless. Quite literally. And that sort of thing scared Percy. "Mr Stationmaster?" asked Percy, to which the man replied with a nod but continued cleanung the windows, "Are all the engines bare?"

Sonehow, he understood what Percy meant. "Yes, 10, they're all faceless. To be honest, we should be having some scientists looking you over right now to see why you have one."

Percy got slightly excited about that. Him, the important one! Not only that, but it would help him not be so lonely. Well, he can always wonder.

And so he thought of his first driver and fireman.

And he smiled.


	4. Percy's Train

Over the weeks, Percy slowly weaned himself off his thoughts about his friends just as he'd done when he was bought by the North Western Railway. He still had a place for them in his mind, but his new duties were important. Get coal and water, shunt coaches, repeat. The perpetuity of it was comforting, he knew just what to do, when. Many days he caught himself staring at the blank engines, their lanterns forever to remain off unless there was a nighttime special happening.

Percy learned the history of all these engines. The oldest was still only about Thomas's age, maybe even Gordon's, and they all faced the scrapyard just like Donald and Douglas or Oliver.

Lately, his thoughts turned to how he got there. America, I mean. It might as well have been gold dust for all he knew. Well, gold dust was a bit of a stretch, he'd never seen anyone use magic—magic that was actually magic—but there wasn't much else in the way of explanation.

* * *

"10, you know the drill."

Percy whistled softly and went to perform his daily tasks. There was another lime of coaches waiting for him, made of wood like the others but these were clerestory coaches, he hadn't seen one in almost his whole lifetime, the last time he did was in 1922, just before Grouping.

"Sir," he asked the stationmaster, "where do these go?"

The stationmaster looked to the coaches for a second and cocked an eyebrow. "We don't even own any clerestories, I thought, I'll have to call the President."

He went into the building and did.

"Well, 10," he said pulling on his coat and searching his pockets for the keys, "looks like you weren't careful when switching and some people said they'd like to ride a train pulled by you."

"Oh look, they're here now. Anyway, the points are set and all you need to do is pull them until you get to the station."

Percy complied.

He still had oil lights installed, and so it took a little while to start, but they were off. The five coaches behind him slowed him down to a measly 10 miles per hour.

It gave him time to think.

Could it have been a dream? Unlikely, you don't just dream up 117 years of existence in real time, and he still had a face. All he could think of was that he went into a coma or broke down one night, was taken to America probably by boat, and was dumped into a scrapyard a year or so later.

So that's what he went with. He'd have to ask the stationmaster about that.

It was long nighttime when he came back to the sheds, he was tired and the train didn't help. What little comfort he had cane from the fact that the engines are a little hard to wake up, unlike those on Sodor.

His eyes shut closed with little hesitation and his lamps went out, but not before the sound of a window being drawn echoed through the metal building.


	5. An Engine Goes Missing

Percy woke up the next day and looked to his right. The engine that rested next to him was gone. It wasn't service related because he got used to getting up at four in the morning to get the first coaches ready for the big engines early.

"Come o—where's 25?" asked his driver.

"I don't know, it's just gone!" was the reply. "Although," Percy said, "I do vaguely remember hearing the window open just before I went to sleep, maybe you can start there."

The crew nodded, saying "we'll tell the stationmaster", and started Percy, his driver, one Mr Drake, was always gentle with him but today it all changed and he seemed distracted. Percy knew why, it was the missing engine. As soon as he alerted the stationmaster ("Aren't you usually switching by now?"), the whole company seemed to change. It was more tense, anyone could be called out.

At six or so, the company staff met up in the shed to swap alibis. Most of them said they were sleeping and some of them were in town, but the shed manager was in Petersburg shed, oiling the engines.

The company seemed wary of him after that; after the '10' incident, they started doubting his knowledge of steam engines. It was Percy's crew who came to his defence—he wouldn't need to break in to touch an engine. It helped, but now there were three questions in the air—where 25 was, who did it, and where the shed manager was that night.

Percy and another engine, a 4-6-0 numbered 28, took 25's trains because they weren't just going to strand those people. It was Percy's idea, his crew and that of No 40 agreed though. They paid, it would be wrong to just leave them.

Meanwhile, the stationmaster paced his office, thinking over their alibis. 10's crew and the shed manager weren't likely to be the culprits, they had keys. Maybe some children up to no good? A vandal? The worst possibility he could come to was that a kleptomaniacal scrapyard owner really hated steam engines and took it to scrap.

The phone rang.

"Hello? Oh, hello Tom, yes we'll get that out soon."

Tom was the local dairy producer and he wanted to send a shipment to the creamery in Davies, just twenty miles away from here. He had his own trucks and everything.

Petersburg was about to have its first freight shipment.


	6. Late Night Dairy

It was seven at night and Percy was sleeping soundly. His fire was out and he didn't have to worry about any turntables.

The shed doors opened wide, exposing Percy to the outside cold. "Come on, 10, we've got work to do," said his driver, patting his tank and climbing in his cab. His fire was lit, his water flowed into his tubes, and he was off.

Percy woke up at the station, disoriented and confused. "Why am I here?" he asked his crew, to which they replied "Work."

It was 7:13 when they were done loading the milk gallons onto the trucks and lighting his lamps, signalled with the guard giving a long blow of his whistle and jumping inside the brake van on the other end. This was his crew's cue, and they left.

The line was dark at this time of night, and the fog didn't help much for visibility. The trucks behind him slowed him down, which meant that he wouldn't hit anything too badly, but if he hit a fruit wagon it wouldn't be very good for the wagon, or the fruit.

Luckily he didn't see anything on the line, so he went on undisturbed.

Few birds were out making noise, and the ones that were did it only occasionally. Most of them were owls, but there were also chickens who refused to sleep and one or two hawks confused about what time it is.

There were a couple ground animals too, some deer, a fox, and three rabbits.

Davies was only three miles away now, and there was a lorry waiting there. An older man, maybe in his fifties but nonetheless in very good shape, got out and waved.

"Good, you're right on time!" the man said. He waved another person, a woman about his age, over to the station platform. Percy stoped so that the first truck was next to them and they started unloading.

The fog wasn't as thick here as on the main line, so he could watch some fireflies fly around close to him. It was entertaining at least, so Percy decided to pass the time that way.

Soon enough the bakers were done and Percy could go to the shed to sleep. It was 10:30 already and Percy couldn't wait.

* * *

Petersburg's stationmaster rubbed his forehead. He had to look personally for the engine the next night, a task that would surely take hours.

"If you see the engine, call me and I'll get the specifics. Include the town, too, would you?"

"Yes sir, anything else you would like to add?"

"Any other engines are good too. Dismissed."

And he left.


	7. Two Engines are Found

The night was cold, wind rushing past the stationmaster's face. He held the wind-up flashlight high, scanning the forest and its surrounding area, but to no avail; he saw nothing out of the ordinary, let alone a Mikado. He had been given an old gun and sent to find the engine, the gun for self defence because you never know what you find at night.

The tracks weren't a safe place to walk, surely, but it was the best way to keep to the path. His footsteps were light and fast and the rain poured against his wooly raincoat. Each drop hit him like a falling penny and his nose was icy cold.

He sat on the track bed, stumped. He made it all the way to the other side of the line but the engine wasn't there. He only had a few places left to look. The first was the sheds at the other station, but that wasn't where it was, because why should life be easy?

Then he tried some little-used branch lines but all he found was a rusting 2-6-6 tank engine, not the 2-8-2 he wanted to find but a nice find nonetheless and one he'd have to report. Any extra power is good, and there were enough tracks and trains to warrant the extra engine. 25 wasn't there though, so he had to keep looking.

He looked for a signalman but nobody was out at the time, just him.

The last place he looked was a badly rusted diversion just outside of Grantham. It was nigh–impossible for this to be the place the engine would end up, but there were few oher options. He followed the tracks.

They lead him through a heavy forest, the little amount of moonlight there was blocked out by the roof, meaning he'd need his flashlight even more than ever. The trees were very tall, and he wondered when they were planted. He waved the flashlight around—nothing.

"Help!"

It sounded like a child, but it was so loud!

The stationmaster froze, before turning around slowly, gun at the ready. He slowly walked deeper into the forest, where the noise came from. He followed the shouts to find No 25, bent up and on its side, cab especially damaged.

It _looked at him_ and said "Help me."

* * *

Percy whistled when he saw the stationmaster, who gave a half-hearted smile and waved a little before returning to work. _That's odd_ , Percy thought, _he's normally a talkative sort. Oh well, I'll bother him tomorrow._

His driver looked at him and shrugged, before heading off with 28 for the first train of the day. He kept his mind clean of that strange occurrence, and they arrived at Davies. The passengers thanked Percy for the ride as usual and left. He uncoupled from 28 and went onto the turntable first, backing onto the end of the train. 28 followed suit and they were ready to go. The passengers got on, and they left for Grantham and Kirkby.

At five, when Percy uncoupled from the train and went back to Petersburgh, he could see something was up; the President's car was there and the stationmaster was nowhere to be seen. He collected each train's coaches and save for one or two trains pushed them into the coach shed. The last two trains departed at 5:30 and 6, so Percy's crew left the coaches there and gave him an early rest.

His wheels were aching, he couldn't keep it up. A few more days of this and he'd burst! And that's when the President came for a meeting with the staff.

"I'm glad to announce that Petersburg's station master has not only found our missing engine but also another engine entirely. He'll be given a raise and I want you all to know we'll have the extra engine in about a month. Also, our fifth track has been completed, too, so we're on our way to becoming a 'real railway' as the newspapers so kindly put it."

Percy was delighted. Taking a train once in a while might have been fun, but it was lonely work. He wamted just to shunt once more, where there were people. Contrary to the beliefs of some, people were better friends than machines.


	8. Strasburg Works

The Mikado and the 2-6-6 were both loaded onto trucks the next morning, to be sent to a nearby locomotive works. The staff were told about this, with Percy being the last to know. The shed manager was redeemed too, and it seemed very good. Percy woke up at four again, ready to do the same old routine. He gathered the coaches onto each of the platforms and coupled up to one, chatting with his crew.

* * *

"I'm glad I'll be back to shunting soon," Percy said.

His crew agreed, but right then No 28 coupled up to Percy. The passengers got in, the guard blew his whistle, and they were off.

It went smoothly, and he even saw the fox again. They turned around for their next trip and left, but not before Percy saw the fox jump in one of the coaches.

At Kirkby, which resembled an uncolored Petersburg or Davies but at a smaller scale, the vulpine passenger got off and was greeted with a pet by a strange young man with a purple three-piece suit.

Percy raised an eyebrow at the man but didn't think too much of it, people train foxes all the time, maybe he was an actor. They left as the train did, and the rest of the day went as smoothly as any other.

The Petersburg R.R., when they learned of Percy's intentions, rented a diesel to help shunt. The diesel was more economical, but the guests didn't like it as much and it left an oily smell.

* * *

The two engines were unloaded in Strasburg's workshop quickly, it was 6:33 and the sun rose with great haste. The workmen at Strasburg lifted the tarpaulin coverings off the two engines and got two surprises, one twenty times bigger than the other.

The first engine was a rare type they didn't know still existed, the other had a face. It wasn't a Thomas the Tank Engine styled face, it was more like 1950s clip art and only covered the smokebox door. The face, and apparently the engine itself, was female.

She was sleeping peacefully, deep enough that they could start taking parts without her noticing.

They unloaded the two engines and got to work. They removed the tank engine's tank and boiler, and started on the Mikado's cab. It took hours to remove the engine's cab, and when they were done, they took a look at the dent in her boiler. It ran along for a few feetbut it was shallow, if there weren't any holes they might be able to hammer it out.

The side rods would be another difficulty.

* * *

Percy persevered, keeping on his new, temporary routine. He liked the attention, he was lonely at night but it didn't bother him much anymore. He thought back to the strange man, he sort of looked like the kind to run—or at least be in—a circus.

* * *

The people at Strasburg, after taking photographs of 25 to share on the Internet, browsed through their parts for anything she needed. They had a few spare coupling rods, but they weren't the right size.

She ached a bit, but nothing that wouldn't go away.

One of the workmen came around and noticed she was awake. "Oh, hello," he said and went back to inspecting her.

She seemed to be fine, so the man stopped looking. "I see you had quite a fall."

She winced. She didn't remember that happening, but it must have if her cab was gone and her boiler was dented.

"Don't worry, you don't have a fire and we'll fix you up."

She felt a little safer. She wanted to say "thank you", but she couldn't. She didn't know how to speak, but she could understand it strangely enough.

"You're in good hands."


	9. The Engine Comes Home

Why couldn't she talk? She remembered seeing that man and asking for help, but nowadays she tried speaking and just "spoke" a couple incomprehensible noises. She kept quiet, when she was asked something she just looked down.

Ow.

Unless that something was "did that hurt," in which case she closed her eyes.

They were mending her boiler, rather roughly too. At first she was in constant pain. But as they got a feel for her, they started getting far gentler and the only time it hurt was when they hammered the dent. Sometimes she thought they did it to see her reaction, but they didn't seem to do it anymore.

She had a new cab fitted, with some new controls where the old ones were bent. She was soon enough mended, and was back into operational condition on October 8th.

Percy was glad to hear she was doing well, the work was becoming too much.

* * *

"And," the President said, "I think Percy will get a pleasant surprise."

Percy was pretty sure he knew what he meant by that.

On October 11th, 25 was set down in Petersburg with no improvements in the language department. She was coupled to the big train and departed. Percy didn't know about her face, and went around working.

The station lead to a shunting yard, followed by a coach shed and an engine shed right next to each other, The Petersburg R.R. was a new steam commuter railroad which served the minor unincorporated communities averaging 2,200 residents near Grantham which were named before the region had easy access to maps, which became awkward when people saw multiple different Petersburgs and Kirkbys in Pennsylvania.

25 took a long train, at least 14 coaches long. She figured this must have been the kind of workload she had taken before and didn't say a thing.

* * *

Late that day, Percy collected the trains of different engines coming to and from the different stations. There were rakes as big as sixteen coaches and as small as four, and all of them had wooden coaches which Percy could pull just fine.

As he sat in a siding near the top station, Percy watched the engines get on the track that didn't have stock laying around. He counted three 2-6-0s, four of both 4-6-0s and 4-6-2s, three 2-8-0s, and one 2-8-2, no 25. She was travelling tender-first, because Petersburg didn't have a turntable and the one at Davies was busy.

Her driver whistled to Percy and his whistled back. They collected the coaches, put them in their shed, and sent Percy to the shed.

Percy heard loud snoring that kept him up all night. It sounded like an engine in its sleep.


	10. An Engine's Recovery

It was a week before Percy saw the other engine's face, but he knew something was up since that night. He was deep in a conversation with himself when he looked up to see 25 gliding over to the sheds. She looked tired and her eyes were closed, but she had them.

As soon as the shed door closed, Percy talked to the other engine. "Hello," he started, "I'm Percy, unofficially. Do you have a name?"

25 just looked in Percy's direction in shock at another living engine.

"I'll take that as a no, then? I'll call you 25, the staff call me 10 anyway. It's nice to know someone else is here. It gets lonely, you know?"

25 didn't know, she was only at the workshop for less than a month and had workers to talk to.

If she were human, she'd have shaken her head, but instead she resorted to looking down at her knuckle coupler.

"Well, I guess I'll stop bothering you. Goodnight." Percy learned the signs fairly quickly of an engine who didn't want to talk.

25 tried saying "no, it's fine," but as always, it came out as a gurgled cry. Percy heard it and asked a big question: "Can you speak?"

Eyes turned downward, no. Why? She _knows_ English well enough.

He'd find out tomorrow. He shut his eyes, said a final "goodnight," and fell asleep.

25 closed her eyes too, she was ignoring her fatigue for long enough. The street lights outside provided the tiniest but of orange light for the engines to see in.

* * *

The next day, Percy and 25 followed their routines to a T when six rolled around. Percy and his crew agreed to ask 25's crew to take her out for a bit. 25 puffed by but stopped by a water tower, which provided a great opportunuty to ask her crew.

They agreed and went to a siding. Their crews left them alone and Percy started work.

"Alright," Percy said, "say 'aah'."

"Aah," she said, following Percy's mouth.

"Now 'bee'."

"Bee."

And so they went on before she got the hang of phonetics. They went onto common words next, yes and no being the first ones.

All night, they practiced speech.

The sun came up and she just finished the word "xylophone", Percy's driver ending the lessons with a shirt whistle and a puff.

25's driver came, too, and soon she left the station muttering the words "mustn't be late".

Percy smiled, his work wasn't in vain. He finished work but he was put in the shed that night. It didn't matter, she got the hang of words.

He went to sleep that night feeling accomplished.


	11. The Stationmaster's Curiosity

The stationmaster's dreams weren't very good. Number 25's cry for help still haunted him, the look on her face as she lay on her side frightened like a little child who just had their sibling find out some deep secret of theirs.

He was scared that night too. The face was one thing, but he got used to 10 fairly quickly. It was the panic in her voice and the pain in her eyes that really sold it. He knew exactly how she felt, he'd been lost many times.

* * *

But why couldn't she talk afterward was a mystery to them both. 25 left that morning to get her train and since she didn't have to think much put her attention on her speech. She doubted steam engine psychology was too similar to human psychology, locomotives didn't reproduce or have the same needs as humans so it wouldn't make sense to have a similar brain.

Maybe it had something to do with the accident? Her voice then didn't sound the same as it does now. It sounded deeper, like a teenaged boy.

The stationmaster had that in mind too when he pondered the incident.

Percy promised to help her out with her speech that night, so she was excited. She was able to talk, but her speech was very slow and quiet.

At Davies, one of the passengers' children looked at 25 and said "See? I told you trains have faces!"

25 had a little time and corrected him. "Just me and 10."

The whistle blew and she was off, leaving behind a stunned young boy and his mother.

* * *

Percy was getting coaches ready for one No 32 when the stationmaster came out. "Hello 10, you're doing well. Hey, do you have any idea why 25 couldn't speak? I heard from Strasburg that one of their workers tried talking to her and didn't get a response."

Percy pushed the coaches into the waiting engine and said "What was she like when you found her?"

The stationmaster rubbed his forehead. "Really bad. She was laying on her side and her cab was caved in."

He uncoupled Percy from the train.

"Maybe she had a dream where she was left alone forever and was too scared to speak again?"

"I don't know, I've had dreams like that but I'm still talking."

Percy thought about it. He had work, so he let the stationmaster know and resumed shunting.

How _could_ she have lost her speech?

* * *

Later that day, he put away the coaches, but this time was a little reckless and derailed one. It was light enough the workers could handle it tomorrow. He was too busy thinking about her problem.

She pulled up to him. They sat at the station this time, fires attended to and crews gone. He started on words—the ones Percy knew, that is—that she would need on a rail"road", like "brake van" or "coach."

She got them quicker than the first time, her progress notable. She spoke slowly and inconfidently but she was speaking at all. She spoke with a concoction of an accent but her lessons with Percy were changing that.

He thought about what the stationmaster said about that night. He would be scared out of his mind if he ever were to be in that situation. He wondered how Oliver or the twins dealt with the possiblity of not being scrapped but also not being bought either, just rusting in that

He went quietly into the shed. He asked 25 if she had any weird or scary dreams, but she couldn't remember any at the moment, sorry.

"Actually…"


	12. Strange Dreams

"It was not very scary, well until the end that is, but it was strange…"

25 sat down on a bench in an abandoned railway station. She was a young girl, no older than 11 years, and she had light skin. Her mother was looking for her, but she didn't reply.

She was waiting for someone. A boy older than her, maybe early teens, promised her he'd be there as well, maybe it was a date or something. 25 didn't really understand love.

She heard her mother call her again but she didn't get to hear her name. It was three syllables, but that was it. She gave up looking about what felt like an hour later.

She was still waiting for that boy.

By the time eight o'clock rolled by, 25 was getting impatient. "If he doesn't come by soon, I'm leaving!"

That's when it happened.

She saw a huge path of light and heard the frantic roar of a steam locomotive giving it all she's got. She looked up to see…herself. From inside her cab came a ternage boy's cries for help, the engine's lost control and I'm afraid of heights. She tried to jump into the cab to get him out, but the engine swerved onto its side when it hit a curve and the cab collapsed.

And then she opened her eyes. She was on her side, boiler dented and cab wet.

She didn't yell for help but it still came out of her smokebox. The sun rose and she quieted down.

"And that is where it ended."

Percy raised an eyebrow. Was she suggesting she was a ghost Welll, aren't ghosts supposed to remember their life? He said "thank you" and went to sleep. 25 did too.

Percy's driver came that morning to find Percy strangely tired. He needed to work, though, so he brought Percy to steam and collected the passenger cars for the other engines. He liked switching work, it was easy and quick. They had some time to spare so they left Percy on the platform the station building is on and went to get a drink.

"So, 10," said the stationmaster, did she have any bad dreams?

Percy yawned. "Yes, I'll tell you all about it…"

The stationmaster can't say he didn't have a dream like that before, but maybe it was the most terrifying thing if you were a little kid.

Or maybe it was trauma? He started to find all these different possibilities as he went over her dream in his mind. And was she dreaming wrong or was the yelling not hers?

So many questions.

"Thank you, 10. Now, I believe you have a job to get back to," he said and left to his office.

The rest of the day went well. He even started on R.W. Terms Volume 2; Extra Handy Words 9007. She wouldn't need his help much longer he thought.

Both Percy and the stationmaster thought of 25's dream that night. It would be a long time before they solved that case.


	13. Seven O'clock Hay Ride

It was October 31st before details of the accident hit the public spotlight, and more importantly Petersburg. A local clergyman was reading through the members of his church and saw two boys he didn't notice had been missing since late September. He called the number listed on their profile, and when he didn't get a response he tried their house, but nobody answered.

Already praying for them he went to the police straight away. They took the case and he went straight back to the empty church.

* * *

It was Percy who spotted it. "Hello, Mr Stationmaster, what's that paper?"

The stationmaster looked to the corkboard on the wall. "That's a missing persons report. This time it's…"

"It's what?" Percy and his crew were intrigued. They stopped immediately.

"Two unrelated but close orphaned boys aged 13 and 15, last seen in Petersburg. They might have been involved in the Flint rail incident."

Percy and his crew stopped dead.

"Do you think…?"

"It's very possible."

"Can't you ask the police to see them?"

"I don't think they'd let me, even if I'm associated with the incident. I'd pretty much have to be the sheriff or the boys' father in order to even stand a chance getting in the coroner's office."

Percy heard a whistle and an impatient passenger and remembered he had work, so they said goodbye and finished up.

The leaves got on the tracks and though they looked nice made a most annoying sound when run over. They were also a fire hazard, they didn't think to give Percy a spark arrestor since he burns coal, but coal can still produce fire hazards.

* * *

By six, the station didn't close. Instead, it was decorated with pumpkins and orange lights. A skeleton leaned against a wall coolly and a green skinned witch peeked down from the roof of the station. Percy didn't understand green-skinned witches, magicians have normal human skin colours. Ah well, it was just a decoration.

Percy felt his back coupler close and let out a trembling "whoa". Some nearby schoolchildren laughed and got on his train, a hay ride by the sounds of it.

Percy was told to go all the way to Davies and return so that he could turn around.

The track was damp and Percy didn't like that. Although he could only go 25 miles per hour at the most, he still would rather it be on dry track. By Grantham he saw the cause, and with it, nothing else. It was a dense fog cloud.

The children reacted in differing ways. A couple of them thought it lame, a few others thought it was really cool. Percy himself didn't mind fog itself but it did get in the way of visibility, a sentiment his crew agreed with. It cleared up, thankfully, between Kirkby and Davies. The station was lit up just as brightly and three engines were themselves waiting to take passengers, but they had coaches.

Percy was uncoupled and ran to the turntable to get turned around.

The ride back was vaguely eventful, a few times an engine would pass by the train and everyone would get a bit excited as they heard the chugs loudly and clearly.

They pulled into Petersburgh and the ride was over. The kids thanked Percy and the adults took them home.

Percy admired the station's decorations before going home himself.

At the shed, he saw 25 and remembered the missing person poster he saw. He spent the night talking to her about it.

Maybe soon he'll figure out why he's here, too.


	14. Metal Coaches (More About Petersburg)

Percy was busier than ever; more and more people heard of the Petersburg R.R. as the days go on. It's especially famous as certainly the longest steam commuter railway in the Anglophone world. Twenty miles (eight of which were owned by the company and the rest were leased from a family of oil barons that lived mainly in Maine, plus infrastructure on owned or leased land) was even longer than the unarguably more well known Strasburg. A ticket costs $10.99 ($4.99 for residents of towns with stations or regular customers.) and it is very well deserved money, considering the smooth rides given by their well maintained engines.

And Percy saw to it that he gave them their eleven dollars (seventeen pounds, was it?) worth.

His quick shunting was vital to the early prosperity of the "road", (it having been founded on New Year's Day) and ensured the trains ran on time. He'd shunted for the first 45 or so years of his life, he certainly knew how to do it.

The drivers of engines 21, 24, and 28 whistled to Percy as they pulled into the station. As soon as he got the chance he got them on their way. It seemed that the line would only get busier and busier.

And it did. As the first week of November ended, the line saw a near shortage of space and ticket prices rose by a dollar.

Each rake got a coach longer, the closing hour pushed back to eight. More and more work! Percy couldn't believe it was happening but could he really complain that much? It gave him something to do; engines weren't meant to be painters or poets or prophets, they were built to be workhorses.

And one he was.

Percy knew there had to eventually be an incident (other than the Flint one), so he made sure he couldn't be pinned for anything by being the best worker he could be.

And something happened indeed.

When 25 came back from Grantham, she wasn't being very careful. She had her eyes closed; since she was the biggest engine at Petersburg they assigned her three extra coaches, which wouldn't have been bad if she only had seven but she was already pulling sixteen.

She still wanted to keep time so she said to her her drivers "Don't slow down! Don't slow down!"

Just in front of her were Petersburg's first metal coaches, C01m–C13m, staggered numbers. By the time she opened her eyes it was too late and she hit them with her full force, damaging C07m irreperably but simply derailing the others.

The sound of the metal caving in was intense and could be heard all the way to Grantham. Her face went red and she shut her eyes tighter, her imposing size not one inch representative of how she felt.

Her cowcatcher caught the ex-coach before it damaged her any, but that wasn't what she was worrying about.

Luckily for her, the coaches were empty, No 32 was taking them back to Davies. Unfortunately, it would still come out of President McCloskey's pocket.

He scolded 25, but it wasn't very harshly since nobody was injured and he got that the work was starting to be too much.

"Say, what happened to that 2-6-6, anyway?"

"Still at Strasburg, my brother in law works there and they just barely got confirmation that they were able to get a new cylinder block, among other things, like a new superheater," replied a young trolley man. Percy never could remember what that job was called.

The President sighed and boarded his train. It was pulled by a green 4-6-0, which Percy nicknamed on-the-fly as Antelope, due to the wheel arrangement and company who built it. He had nicknames for all the engines in the shed but 25.

She looked down in embarrassment and let her crew do all the work.

Percy took a little time off shunting to watch the spectacle, as had the passenger. A few children cried and others, mostly older ones around 13, covered their ears and shut their eyes. It was after the scolding that they went back to normal.

Antelope left and 25 made her way to the yards. She didn't have any more work and so it would be good to keep out of the others' way.

She watched Percy idly and raised an eyebrow at how quickly he was able to get coaches to the engines. His speed was impressive for only having 3' wheels.

He must have a secret.

* * *

Percy's last shuntee was a rake of 13 coaches put behind a strangely familiar Pacific. It had another railway's name on its tender and Percy figured it was a quick-fix rental.

It was numbered "576", Percy didn't know why, no preserved line in the world had that many engines. He figured that maybe it was the engine's former number. That sounded accurate.

Percy's tanks were nearly empty by then, so he went over to the water tower. The setting sun's orange light never seemed so rare or…magical.

"Hello 10, how are you today?"

"Hello Mr Stationmaster, It really is beautiful right now. I'm doing fine, this work load is astonishing. Not that astonishing can't be good, far from it. It really is amazing what you can do with enough money.

"I've only been here what, two months?"

"Since August 30th," corrected the stationmaster.

"Yes, since then, and I've already seem the line grow into a nearly fully fledged railway."

The stationmaster put up his eyebrow for a bit, but remembered 10 was British-built and lowered them.

"We've done it today, let's do better tomorrow," Percy said before going off to his shed.

The stationmaster nodded.


End file.
